Hands
by Holly Hillocks
Summary: She wakes up alone three hours later with handprints blooming purple on her hips.


She's already awake when his eyes slide open at 0300. He tugs her closer and inhales, her soft hair tickling his chin as he exhales her name,

"Tasha."

She presses her nose into his neck and he kisses her hair,

" I don't know how long I'll be gone."

She nods against his collarbone. He pulls back, kissing her on the forehead as he slips out of bed to get ready to go. She curls into the warm spot he's left behind in their sheets and watches him get dressed by moonlight, watches him transform into the assassin with every piece of equipment he straps on.

He is fastening his TAC vest with deft fingers when she finally speaks.

"Clint."

His name has barely left her mouth when his vest hits the floor. In a second his is shirt forgotten, cargos disappearing into a dark corner. His calloused hands are rough where they touch her skin, mouth hard, because he knows that what she wants is a reminder. Wants to know the smell, taste, and touch of him long after he's gone.

She wakes up alone three hours later with handprints blooming purple on her hips.

She showers and revels in the ache he's left behind, enjoying the dull pulse of his grip brought to life by the pounding of the hot water. She will not miss him, so long as she can still feel the ghost of his hands on her, she'll be okay.

She is her usual self by the time she enters the kitchen on the common floor, surprised to find that even tony has made it to breakfast. She is greeted by a chorus of good mornings that she returns and a "So where's Legolas?" that raises an eyebrow.

"He already left."

There's an indignant sputter of "He didn't even say goodbye" from Tony.

"He had to be on base by 4:00, did you want him to wake you before he left?" She asks with an eyebrow and Tony just purses his lips, unwilling to capitulate, but without a response. Natasha smirks and reaches for a water glass from the shelf above her head and there's an appreciative whistle behind her. "Damn Spidey, that's quite a bruise." She looks down at the splotch her reach had exposed and brushes her fingertips over it. She murmurs 'Clint' unconsciously and there is a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the breakfast bar. Steve's voice is filled with concern and riteous anger, "He hurt you?! Natasha, how long has this been going on? Are you okay? I can't believe Clint would-" she is so startled by his words it takes her a moment to cut him off,

"No!, Steve, I'm fine, it's fine, Clint didn't - calm down."

The captain looked more and more agitated as she went on, anger building at the archer and himself, "it's not fine Natasha, this is not okay, we should have noticed, I should've-"

"Steve!" His attention snaps to her and Tony could swear her cheeks are pink, she rubs her hand over her eyes and sighs, "I got them having sex, Steve." The older mans brain seems to shut down for a second and they can see the moment the mental image comes together in his mind, his whole face flaring a brilliant shade of mortified. They stand together awkwardly, not sure what to do with this information, some trying to banish the thought from their minds, others storing it for later, before silently going back to fixing breakfast.

The table remains uncomfortably quiet until finally Tony mutters "I knew it." and things feel normal again.

The marks fade to nothing after three weeks and two short missions. Clint still hasn't returned and Natasha cannot accurately replicate the feeling of him, her hands are too soft.

After three months there is an air of worry throughout the tower, the archers absence sorely noted. Tony drags Bruce to the garage to work on his newest project, a '67 Chevelle that needs everything done to it, and spends most of the hour muttering that Clint would know how to rebuild the transmission. He lets Bruce go back to his lab and continues his work by himself. He leaves the garage around midnight and is startled to find Natasha sipping tea in a chair by the window. He asks her if she's okay and she turns her head to give a snappy reply but can't find it in her; she shrugs instead, because she's not sure. she's never felt this kind of empty weight before, he's never been away for this long without word. She turns back to the window and the conversation is over. Tony goes to bed and buries his face in Peppers hair.

Five months and eight short missions pass. she is contemplating calling Fury and demanding to know whereheiswhatishedoingwhenishecominghome. Is he coming home? The question steals her ability to breathe and they are all beginning to wonder, comforted only by the lack of a phone call filled with apology. She avoids the others, preferring the silence for her companion in worry. She does not need their sympathetic glances, she doesn't want to see their sadness at the absence of their friend, because she misses him so much it has become a physical pain to carry the weight of in her heart.

Eight months. Pepper has talked her into joining them for movie night and Natasha is surprised to find that she had missed them. She falls easily into the comfortable rhythm of friends. She lets herself be warmed by these people who care about her, who ply her with soda and popcorn and make her watch Cloudy With Chance of Meatballs. She actually finds herself enjoying the movie when the elevator dings. They are tensed with weapons drawn from who knows where in an instant, prepared for whatever may come.

He is grimy and exhausted as he steps out of the lift, dropping his duffle to the ground with a thud. They are frozen in place for a moment and then Natasha is practically leaping into his arms, legs locking around his waist, his hands supporting her easily, and she's kissing him, her hands in his hair, running over his face, his back, his shoulders. He is real and he is here and suddenly she can breathe again. He brings a hand up to her hair, holding her closer and takes the four steps back into the elevator, pressing a button blindly, knowing Jarvis will let them off at the right floor.

The silence they leave behind is absolute and then Tony is laughing and Bruce can't suppress his smirk after seeing the blush rise on Steves cheeks. Pepper just presses play on the movie, smiling, knowing there family is back together.

A/N: Uh, I wasn't too sure about this? So any feedback would be appreciated, I had considered ending it at '_She showers and revels in the ache he's left behind, enjoying the dull pulse of his grip brought to life by the pounding of the hot water. She will not miss him, so long as she can still feel the ghost of his hands on her, she'll be okay.' _but I wasn't sure and I dunno so, opinions would be lovely if you can find the time. I fear it might seem too sentimental but I think sometimes people forget that Natasha is a human being?


End file.
